Despite the rain, she can't complain about trip to Spain

Published 12:37 am, Friday, February 22, 2013

The rain in Spain definitely does NOT stay mainly in the plain, no matter what Professor Henry Higgins in "My Fair Lady" says.

It also occurs in Barcelona, as we found out upon our rather damp arrival. We were embarking on a 12-day cruise ending in Lisbon.

On days 1 and 2, we began getting acclimated to the vastness of the ship, and we managed to squeeze in a tour of the city.

I was in Barcelona in 1962 and made the ghastly mistake of going to a bullfight -- I was young and stupid. It was an appalling experience.

I developed an immediate lifelong antipathy towards picadors and unsuccessfully rooted for the bulls.

Luckily, bullfighting was banned in the entire region of Catalonia as of last year. So we devoted our morning touring kinder, safer things, like the Spanish Village built for a 1929 Exposition and the Castell de Montjuic, which is more of a fort than a castle.

Day 3 was spent at sea. Lectures, the casino, shops, movies and the abundant food and drink available at all times kept us entertained.

I overheard two women discussing what they would wear to dinner that night. Lace, brocade, silk, diamonds -- and it wasn't even a formal night, when "evening gowns and dresses of fashionable length" would be considered acceptable.

We tend to dress casually, and there I was with barely a sequin to my name. I wasn't sure my wardrobe was even adequate for going into the onboard shops. The waiters in the dining room looked more elegant than we did.

We didn't care.

Day 4 found us in the city of Malaga, and we took a tour to Marbella on the Costa del Sol, the Spanish Riviera. We strolled through the old city and a park full of statues created by Salvador Dali, well-known for portraying the ordinary as the bizarre.

We paused for refreshment in a plaza full of orange trees. The oranges are bitter, said the guide, fit only for marmalade. So they get sent to Britain for processing, and Spaniards buy their marmalade in the supermarket.

On the way back to the ship, our guide explained at some length the catastrophic state of the Spanish economy. I thought for starters they might consider producing their own marmalade.

The next day we were in Cadiz, at some 3,000 years, the oldest inhabited city in Europe. Very important geographically, this port fought over by Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Visigoths and Moors before Spain finally took over.

Christopher Columbus set sail from Cadiz. Other history was rife, photographic opportunities were plentiful, and at long last I came upon some decent shopping -- I had been having a hard time bolstering the sad Spanish economy until then.

Day 6 was Thanksgiving, and we spent it in Morocco. Casablanca has probably changed a lot since 1942 when the movie was made, although there is still -- or maybe is again -- a Rick's Cafe, and Humphrey Bogart seems to be a lingering presence. Nobody ever mentioned Ingrid Bergman.

The buildings are mostly white and flat-roofed. Add in wide boulevards, a million palm trees, the stunning Hassan II mosque, the impressive halls of the Mahkama Law Court, and what you have is a truly captivating ambiance of the "You must remember this ... as time goes by" variety.

After another restful day at sea, we found ourselves in the Canary Islands. These were named not for little yellow birds, but rather because of past dogs, monk seals or possibly an ancient Berber tribe, depending on your source.

It rained cats and dogs -- or monk seals -- in Tenerife, the largest of the Islas Canarias, as we set out on Day 9 to wander around a seaside town and then visit a winery.

Our guide was an expert in absolutely everything Tenerifian and ceaselessly shared pertinent scientific data. She kind of lost me when she started babbling about astrophysics -- actually, she lost me long before that. But Tenerife was beautiful, even in the rain.

Day 10: Lovely Madeira. This Portuguese island is considered a paradise by many, including Winston Churchill -- and who am I to argue with Winston Churchill? It's dramatically rugged, lush, colorful, and perfect in its year-round spring-like climate, other than some rather capricious rainfall.

Madeira is known for wines, wicker, an exiled Austrian emperor and toboggans.

This is reportedly the only place in the world where you can slide down a steep, twisted mountain roadway sitting in a basket mounted on steel gliders. Two sturdy young men wield attached ropes to control your progress. I loved it.

So on to Lisbon. I can't describe it, because as I write this we're not there yet. But I'm looking forward to it.